


To have and to hold

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, picks up right after bucky all but begs him to move in with him, right after sarah's funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's mother is dead and Bucky is at his doorstep with a vow (I'm with you 'til the end of the line) and love in his eyes. </p><p>[We got no rings but we've got each other and an apartment key]</p>
            </blockquote>





	To have and to hold

**Author's Note:**

> want more preserum/prewar stucky (no angst)? then you might like One Half of the Hourglass (my other fic) http://archiveofourown.org/works/4762064 (don't mind the unfinished part, every chapter is a peek into their life)

_Transplant my heart into yours_  
_And we'll go through hell and high water_  
_Transplant my heart, gives me the kicks_  
_But we're pumping like machinery  
_

_Healing hands have me_  
_Medicated, justilated_  
_Cut me open, still this pain_

[[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrH_LyxXHyg&list=PLbpsuDbWEUPeh3bZAdoy1qFtCaXIaq2lr&index=3)]

Steve's ma is dead and he's struggling to process this - even as her casket had been lowered into the ground he'd forced himself to breathe evenly and hold his chin up high. He'd avoided Bucky and his folks immediately after - weaving in and out of crowds as Bucky's eyes scanned the sea of solid black and the blending of floral perfumes for him. Steve couldn't focus on anything right now; not the warm breeze that seemed out of place ( _It should be coming down in buckets,_ he thinks, _the angels mourning)_ nor the laundry flapping in the wind like proud flags or the neighbor who cheerfully waved to him  _(Don't look at her, eyes to the ground)._

He wants to shut himself off from the rest of the world and curl into a tiny ball _(I don't need anyone. No one at all)._ He kicks dirt and gravel as he rounds the corner to the aged brick building only to find that he's not alone after all. He should've expected as much -  _(I don't need him, I don't need him, I don't need him)_ as he and Bucky were one anothers' shadow and had been since they were eight years old and Bucky had punched Norman Bruhn in the nose when Norman had cornered Steve in an alley and blackened his eye. Truthfully, they needed one another - Bucky was the sensible one with a good head on his shoulders and mountains of emotion within him that he struggled to hide. Steve was the passionate hot headed kid who was quick to throw himself into a fight if it was a good cause. It was a delicate balance. 

Bucky wordlessly trails after him up one flight of stairs and then another. He breaks the silence as Mr. Petrov leaves his apartment - his snow white hair in stark contrast to his camel colored jacket. Steve has always liked him as he hardly says a word - merely jerks his head in greeting when they pass but today he's in a hurry and Steve isn't in the mood.

"How was the service?"

Bucky is wearing his best suit with hair slicked back and scuffed dress shoes. Steve forever feels as if he's the messy uncoordinated other half with jacket hanging off of thin shoulders, faded button up, his fathers tie and hair refusing to cooperate. He hadn't had the strength to even attempt to tame it this morning and the apartment he'd shared with his mother seemed empty and cold - her bed would be vacant now with the collection of various medications still at her bedside table.

"It was fine, she's buried next to dad," Steve says quietly. Bucky nods - attempts to school his expression into anything but broken hearted. Sarah Rogers had known Bucky since he was a child with missing teeth and an addiction to marbles and his best friend. She'd never once scolded him for skipping class to stay by Steve's side when he was sick or staying over without permission from his mother because _"If he wakes up and I'm not here, he'll get real mad, Mrs Rogers."_ Bucky was mourning her as well.

"I looked for you after, my folks wanted to give you a ride home," Bucky replies.

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes had been there when Steve had needed them the most with their door open and a bowl of warm food - Bucky's bedroom always welcome whenever his ma would work late or his father had too much to drink. Steve couldn't imagine losing Mrs. Barnes - she might as well be his surrogate mother.

Steve remains silent.

"I was gonna ask-," Bucky begins.

_I don't need pity, Buck._

"I know what you were going to ask, Buck," Steve interrupts.

It isn't the first time Bucky has asked him to move in as his ma got sicker and sicker - they both knew it was only a matter of time. Steve had refused - she needed him. Bucky had dropped by nearly every afternoon then to help with Steve's ma, citing that she'd been there for him and it was only right that he return the favor. He'd thrown together cheap meals and stayed up late with Steve - rambling on about nothing in particular - anything to take his mind off of the obvious and it had worked most of the time. He'd slept on the sofa for three days and woke up tired and aching until Steve caved and forced him to share his cramped bed. Somehow having Bucky's back pressed up against his own - warm and safe - had helped tremendously as well as waking up to his arm thrown across Steve's chest and half the covers on his side of the bed. It had only been two days since he'd forced Bucky to go back home and his chest felt hollow and heavy. The silent apartment made him nauseous.

Bucky sighs behind him - "Come on, we could put couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It'd be fun."

"I kind of wanna be alone right now."  _I don't need him, I **don't**. Yes I do. _

Steve pats his coat pockets and trousers for the key and comes up empty. Bucky kicks aside a rock and picks up the spare key(used more often than not) and passes it to him. Steve can't meet his eyes - they're too big and sad and if Bucky breaks he'll follow. 

"All you have to do is take out the trash, maybe shine my," Bucky's shoulders slump and his voice cracks, "shoes once in awhile."

Steve straightens his shoulders with a conviction that he doesn't feel - "Thanks Buck but I can get by on my own."   _I need you._

Steve stares down at the key in his hand and rotates it as Bucky shakes his head - he's frustrated and that's obvious.

"Thing is...you don't have to."

Blue eyes reflect against the sunlight and nearly appear green as he stares back at Steve with his heart on his sleeve. Steve crinkles his forehead and he's fighting a losing battle with himself. Bucky needs _him_ right now and he's nearly pleading in the best way he knows how without outright saying it.

He steps closer and Steve watches as he clamps a strong hand on his shoulder - it hurts but it's enough to force Steve to stop being stubborn and accept help for once.

_Hug me, kiss me, do something because I've got nothing left here._

" 'Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

Steve can't bring himself to look away - Bucky's eyes are soft and welcoming - it's the closest thing to coming home that Steve will ever get and it scares him how easy it would be to lose Bucky. He could cope with the loss of his father, his mother but Bucky? He would rather die in his place.

_No matter where we go in this life...we'll be together. Until the very end of the line. I never...thought I'd hear those words._

Steve recalls being nine years old as his mother brushes his hair back from a sweaty forehead and repeats the story of how she and his father had met all those years ago. When he'd asked what a wedding vow was she'd told him it meant that two people loved one another so deeply that they would choose to be together for the rest of their days. He'd asked then 'Isn't that what a best friend is for?'  and she'd smiled - it reminded him of sunshine. 'Yes, sometimes a best friend can be a soulmate too.' He'd drifted off to the sound of her voice as she told him that a soulmate was somebody our heart chose for us long before we even met them. He'd dreamed of Bucky and splashing through rain puddles, catching frogs and reading comics for the rest of his life - _soulmate._

This was a vow - a union not to be taken lightly.

 _He's mine for as long as we both shall live._ _My first and last love. It's not gonna be easy but it'll be worth it. He's worth it.  
_

Bucky's hand lingers on his shoulder and Steve tears his gaze away - the key weighs heavy in his hand and it feels like a wedding ring.

_We've got no rings but we got each other and an apartment key._

"Okay Buck, I'll move in with you."

Today is not a day for guarded walls or pretending not to feel - it is redemption and vows, it is Bucky's arms around his waist and nose buried in his neck. It's renewal and a fresh start together.

His hands are shaking as he unlocks the door and steps in with Bucky at his side. The apartment is dusty and Steve's mothers bed frame and thin mattress is pushed up against the far wall, small table beside of it with medication waiting only she won't be needing it now.

It hits him all at once - he snatches up an empty box and scrapes the pill bottles and vials of liquid inside with more force than necessary as Bucky watches from the sofa. Next he tugs the sheet and pillow off of the bed and rolls them into a ball that he throws into the corner. He stalks to the kitchen to retrieve the remainder of the medication from the bare fridge and drops them into the box with the others - stomps out and puts them into a metal garbage can. 

He hastily tugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves as Bucky removes his suit jacket. They mirror one another more often than not.

Her collection of records goes into another box (he'd been collecting the boxes recently and chiding himself for being morbid but it would happen someday and he wouldn't be able to keep up on the rent and he was nothing if not prepared) along with framed photo's of himself as a baby, black and white stills of himself and Bucky grinning widely with watermelon dripping down their chins (age 9), one or two of his mother and a lone photo of his father.

It takes him three hours before he runs out of steam and he has packed up what few belongings they possessed and stacked them neatly in a corner. Bucky hadn't offered to help - he knew that Steve was working through this in his own way. He'd always been one to use his hands to express whatever feelings were plaguing him, words were not his strong point.

His cheeks are damp and eyes red as he joins Bucky on the sofa. Bucky wraps an arm around his shoulders and props his head up against Steve's. The sound of his even breathing is enough to calm Steve - for that matter his very presence is enough. They have been down this road before only Steve had coped better with the loss of his father - had did his best to be strong for his mother but Bucky always knew when he was crumbling on the inside. Bucky would tug him down onto Steve's bed and curl around him without saying a word. He is Steve's anchor.

"I put daisies on her grave," Steve nearly whispers.

"She'd like that," Bucky says as he turns away and places Steve's head on his shoulder. If left up to Steve he'd have no physical comfort at all - he'd felt like a burden his entire life. _Emotions are a weakness that only leads to more pain,_ this was his motto.

They lapse into silence once more - Bucky assumes that Steve is sleeping so he lightly kisses his forehead and rubs away the evidence with his thumb.

_You do that a lot when you think I'm sleeping. Don't think I haven't noticed._

He waits until Bucky has turned away and sits up with shoulders and legs still pressed up against Bucky's - chin resting on Bucky's shoulder bone. Bucky stares back guiltily as if he'd crossed a line before throwing up his walls - "Did you sleep well?"

Steve is exhausted and beyond tired of Bucky trying to hide his every emotion - "I wasn't asleep."

"Oh."

Bucky licks his lips and stretches his legs - "I'm getting kinda cramped up here."

Steve reluctantly moves away - watches the muscles in Bucky's arms flex as he stretches. Sometime in between Steve's rampage and now he'd removed his suit vest, shoes and button up until he wore only an undershirt and freshly pressed charcoal black trousers with a belt to match.

_I shouldn't be having the kind of thoughts about you that I am._

"Need any help with packin' up the rest?"

"What? No. I got it all I think."

"We gonna sleep here tonight or at the other place?," Bucky asks.

_Our place._

"Doesn't matter to me. Kinda stripped the other bed though."

Bucky shrugs - "We can sleep on the floor or your bed like we used to when we were kids."

_You're the biggest nostalgic sap._

"Either one works," Steve replies.

"We'll stay here I guess and get dad to come over - he can help carry stuff to our place."

Steve's cheeks heat up -  _You give me a wedding vow **and** we're moving in together. Ma would be proud._

_Soulmates. This one's for you, ma._

Steve is a ball of nerves and emotions running rampant and had it been any other day he'd be able to tamp them down and bury them deep as he had been for most of their lives. 

He rises and stretches slightly under the guise of aching muscles (and it isn't far from the truth, he overdid it) - joins Bucky who is now bent over a half opened box of anything Steve could toss in it. 

"Hey Buck."

_Do it for **her**.  
_

Bucky glances up and Steve takes a deep breath - releases and wraps both hands around Bucky's neck. Bucky doesn't ask why he's doing this or protest as he allows Steve to gently pull his head down until their foreheads are resting together.

_Breathe, Steve. Breath._

The sun sets in the sky and casts the untidy apartment in pastel pinks and oranges. They breathe one another in and Bucky trails his hand down Steve's arm until he reaches his hand - laces their fingers together as if they've did this a million times before.

Bucky's breath fans hot against Steve's lips as Steve brushes the back of his neck where dark hair meets skin with the pad of his thumb.

_Is it possible to love a person this much?_

Bucky bends closer and places a hand on Steve's cheek -

_Kiss me. I need this. I need you._

He cautiously presses a dry kiss to Steve's lips and sighs against them as if a heavy weight has been lifted from his chest.

_How long have you waited for this and why didn't you say something?_

Steve takes Bucky's bottom lip in between his own and sucks gently - makes a path with his tongue.

_This is us. This is healing._

Bucky releases his hand and grips Steve's hipbones tight.

Steve parts his lips and allows Bucky more access - Bucky doesn't hesitate as he glides his tongue alongside Steve's, slowly.

_It's a dance.  
_

Steve tugs at Bucky's undershirt, pulls it up over his head and attempts to drag him back in but he's too busy undoing every tiny button on Steve's shirt. He frees it at last and slips it off - it slides to the ground at their feet. Bucky's hands are trembling as he holds each forearm and kisses collarbones and a slender neck - sucks and bites until he leaves visible marks. Steve runs his hands over every inch of skin on Bucky's chest and back that he can reach - traces his spine and causes Bucky to shiver.

_Mine. Oh god...mine. Forever._

Steve feels like throwing the door open and yelling for all the world to hear - 'We're in love, isn't it beautiful? Isn't it amazing? I did it ma, I finally did it!' but the world wouldn't understand.

"Steve...," Bucky breathes against his ear - Steve scratches his back with dull fingernails and bites his lip to keep from moaning because Bucky's skin is damp and hot against his own, his breath coming in hot bursts of air and it's nearly too much.

"You sure...you want... _me_?," Bucky asks in between kisses that leave Steve's head spinning.

He doesn't trust himself to speak so he nods and answers with a bite against Bucky's neck - followed by his tongue. Bucky makes a sound low in his throat and it vibrates against Steve's lips.

Bucky tenses and Steve knows what he's worried about before he even asks.

"No Buck I'm not...," he mouths Bucky's jaw in between answering the unspoken question, "gonna regret...this...want...you."

Bucky pulls him back to whisper in his ear - "Not tonight but soon if...if you wanna."

Steve's heart does flip flops in his chest.

_More than anything._

"Yes," is all he can muster as Bucky tugs him down onto the sofa that holds many memories for the two of them.

Steve never knew how healing physical touch could be - he allows himself to be vulnerable for the first time in years and memorizes the taste of Bucky's skin against his lips - sweat, salt and the faint scent of aftershave.

Bucky touches him as if he has prepared for this moment - hoped for it - for as long as Steve has. Steve wants nothing more than to unzip Bucky's pants and watch him fall apart but now isn't the time and for that matter he has no idea where to go from there. He only knows that he needs to _touch,_ to _taste._

Instead they discover each others bodies like familiar maps and Steve falls asleep to the steady beat of Bucky's heart under his ear. 

_This is healing. This is starting over. Chapter 1 of our story._


End file.
